Gospel Story Finder

The adoption of our second child was just as miraculous. The opportunity to go to Korea for a semester came about unexpectedly. It came just when I was coming up for tenure, and when I told my wife we needed to go, not for research or teaching but for an administrative assignment, she said it didn’t make sense. It didn’t. But I told her I had a strong feeling that we should go. Two weeks later, after she had wrestled with the idea, she told me that she finally agreed; we needed to go. Then she said, “There is another baby waiting for us.”

My jaw fell open. I was flabbergasted, but it suddenly made sense. Things fell into place. I went to see my department chair and told him that I needed an emergency leave and that I needed to go to Korea. He was surprised—and skeptical. But I put all my cards on the table and told him about the adopted daughter that would soon be born, and he completely supported my request. As it turns out, he had special sympathies for me—he, too, was adopted. On short notice I found a perfect replacement to teach my classes. Details on the Korean side were much more complicated, and a series of obstacles appeared in our path, but one by one everything fell into place.

My wife’s mother had died the previous year, and my wife and I are convinced that somehow—I don’t know how these things work—she engineered the details from her side of the veil. Our second baby is the sweetest child a set of parents could ever hope to have. She is a joy to us, and she has become our second greatest blessing. We love these gifts from heaven. They have given us life. They have given us love. We have been sealed for time and all eternity, and we enjoy all the blessings of the temple.

I am grateful to a young man who shared with me the following experience. He and another Aaronic Priesthood holder were assigned to administer the sacrament to a man who was homebound and very sick. They arrived at his home not realizing that recent medical treatments prevented him from eating any food—even a piece of the sacrament bread. After blessing the bread, the young man presented the sacrament to the frail man. He took a piece of the blessed bread, waited a moment, and then held it against his lips. The young man said when he saw this faithful brother express his reverence for the sacrament, he felt as though he were watching him kiss the feet of the Savior. He could tell that he loved Him.

The significance of the sacrament was impressed upon that young man in an unforgettable way that day. You will have sacred experiences, just as this young man did.

A few years later, I found myself in the Holy Land with my son Ryan and my son-in-law Jeremy and his father John. There was a war on at the time, so there were very few people out and about, but this was our only chance, so there we were.

On the Sabbath, we went to church at the BYU Jerusalem Center. Then we called a taxi and started back into the city when the Palestinian driver asked us if we had been able to visit Lazarus’ tomb. I told him we dared not go there because it was located in a Palestinian neighborhood where we might not be safe as Westerners.

He said, “You would be safe there with me. Let me take you.”

“No,” I said. “I promised these boys’ mothers I would not take them anywhere that might be unsafe.”

“I live in that neighborhood. I drive this car in and out many times each day. You would be among my people. You would be safe.”

“Thanks,” I said, “but you don’t know these boys’ mothers. We better not.”

We drove in silence for a minute.

“You really should let me take you. That is the place where our Lord raised St. Lazarus from the dead.”

I glanced over at this Palestinian in his Palestinian clothes with his Palestinian accent. “ Our Lord?” I said. “Do you believe in Christ?”

“Of course.”

I was fascinated. “How did you become a Christian?”

“My family is Christian.”

“Really. How long have they been Christian, and where did they learn of Christ?”

“How long? Always. We began to follow Him when He was here. We saw what He did and heard what He taught. We have always lived in Bethany. We have always followed Him.”

Well, we had him turn the car around. We wound through back neighborhoods, eventually arriving in little village of Bethany. The driver waited by his car.

There was no one but the caretaker there at the tomb who told us to just leave the key to the gate on a nail when we left. Then we found ourselves standing in a cave carved deep into a stone wall thought to be the very place Lazarus had been buried. We went down about a dozen spiraling steps to a landing from where we could see light filtering down to us from the street-level three or four meters above, and below, we could see a stone ledge where a body would have been laid.

I realized I was still carrying my Bible that I had taken to church, so I began to read the account from John 11.

Jesus had learned that his friend Lazarus had died, and then He deliberately waited three days before returning to Bethany, so there could be no doubt he was really dead.

Lazarus’ family, Mary and Martha, met him on the road above us. They were devastated that their brother had died.

“Jesus … cometh to the grave. It was a cave, and a stone lay upon it.” (John 11:38)

From inside the cave, we looked up and imagined how dark this place would be with a stone covering the opening, and we imagined hearing the Lord’s muffled voice from the street above.

“Jesus said, Take away the stone.” (John 11:39)

We imagined the sounds we would have heard as shoulders slid stone against stone and over crunching gravel.

“And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me. … And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth.” (John 11:41, 43)

We imagined being there as that command echoed down the stone passageway to him. I supposed that we would have detected an immediate movement as Lazarus came to himself, tried to move, and found himself confined by the cloth funerary wrappings and then throwing his feet over the edge of the stone bed and maybe gathering himself for a moment before standing and making his way upward step by step. He would have had to brush by us as he ascended those stairs, going up into the light.

I softly read on.

“And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with graveclothes: … Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, and let him go. Then many of the Jews which came to Mary, and had seen the things which Jesus did, believed on him.” (John 11:44-45)

We thought about our taxi driver who was waiting in the small square above us perhaps about where his family may have stood 2000 years ago, and we wondered at their faces as they watched Lazarus walk away.

I closed the scriptures, and our spirits were full because of the influence of the Spirit we were feeling.

We began to move back toward the stairs. I lingered behind for a moment because my mind was on another boy, our 12-year old Tanner, who, like Lazarus, had died. Like Mary and Martha, I suppose, we were devastated. But in that place, made Holy to me by the Spirit that I was feeling there, I thought of the anguish of Martha and Mary a few minutes before and then of the unimaginable joy they felt when they saw their brother “come forth.”

In that silent place that represented restored-life, I almost involuntarily felt to speak aloud our son’s name.

“ Tanner.”

I did not have to travel to Israel to gain a testimony of the resurrection any more than I had to travel to the Sacred Grove in New York to come to know the Restoration. The feelings I felt there are the same feelings you have felt from time to time listening to people speaking in church and reading scriptures. These are feelings that inspire us to live better lives, and they are feelings that deserve our respect. The Holy Ghost inspiring our souls is as great a miracle as the parting of the Red Sea or the raising of the dead. These are instances of the veil parting for a moment as Heavenly Father tells us He loves us and cares about how we live our lives.

I expect my experience in that ancient tomb was nothing less than a tender mercy to one about to be called to be an “especial witness” of the Savior. My testimony was renewed that the Savior loves us—loves me—loves my wife, Kalleen — loves my children Christine and Ryan and Kelsey… and Tanner. I love Him too and testify of His goodness.

Practices went on for months in the individual stakes, with leaders traveling from one group to the other to make sure that all of them were doing the dances the same way. Months and months of man-hours were involved. And it all came together on Tuesday morning, July 23.
The 2,000 young people met with Johnny Whitaker, the D’s, the Grandland Singers, and the leaders, and they took a million pieces of puzzle and created a beautiful, finished product. They rehearsed all day.
“And it worked,” said Bruce Nelson of the Spokane Stake. “One of the greatest experiences happened when we performed for the first time on Tuesday evening. Everything came off like it was planned. It was really fantastic! The theme of the whole thing was ‘Catch a Happy Feeling!’ And we caught it!” And so did those who came to observe. Favorable comments were heard on every side, and the young performers’ enthusiasm grew as the 24th and their second performance approached.

The following is the story of Marian and Frederick Akinbo:
“Marian and her family were among the pioneers of the Church in Benin City, Nigeria. Her family started attending the Church in 1982 but got baptized in April of 1984. When I met Marian, I had stopped attending my former church as I got an impression that something was just not right with my old church but couldn’t figure it out. I was introduced to the Church in 1992 by Marian, while I was searching for a wife. It became clearer to me when the missionaries started talking about eternal life as the greatest of all gifts from Heavenly Father. I got baptized on July 15, 1995. I am grateful for my membership in His kingdom and the opportunity to have an eternal family.”

Nineteen members were baptized on the above date by Elders Rendell N. Mabey, Edwin Q. Cannon, Jr., and A. Bruce Knudsen. The Aboh Branch was organized, with Anthony Obinna as president, his brothers Francis and Raymond as his counselors, and his wife Fidelia as Relief Society president. When President Obinna expressed concern about the propriety of having his own family in these offices, Elder Mabey assured him that they had been chosen for their worthiness, not for their kinship. The new branch presidency promptly reported the event in a jubilant letter to the First Presidency:
“Dear Brethren,
“All the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in this part of Nigeria have the pleasure to thank you and the Latter-day Saints throughout the world for opening the door for the Gospel to come to our people in its fullness.
“We are happy for the many hours in the Upper Room of the Temple you spent praying to the Lord to bring us into the fold. We thank our Heavenly Father for hearing your prayers and ours and by revelation. He has confirmed the long promised day, and has granted the holy priesthood to us, with the power to exercise its divine authority and enjoy every blessing of the temple.
“There is no doubt that the Church here will grow and become a mighty center for the Saints and bring progress enough to the people of Nigeria as it is doing all over the world.”

When I was 14, my father was diagnosed with cancer of the lymph nodes. Chemotherapy treatment was possible, which doctors estimated would help give my father a 50 percent chance of living eight years or longer. The decision was made to go through with the treatment, and during the next six months my father went in weekly for chemotherapy.
At the end of the chemotherapy, my ward in Bountiful held a special fast for my father. It was a marvelous experience to join in faith for a common cause. When the diagnosis came back, the doctors could find no sign of cancer. After I left for my mission, I would receive letters from my father telling me of his continued improvements and how he even ran a marathon. Things seemed to be going well.

Here's a little modern story that illustrates how forming and sticking to a plan helps to organize circumstances.

Years ago, my wife's little sister Cindy came to stay with us for a summer. She was a beautiful girl and later became "Days of `47" Queen in Utah. She was instantly popular among a number of local boys who invited her on many activities: to beach parties, on hiking and fishing dates, swimming, ventures on Waikiki. Since she was staying with us, I felt some responsibility for her and worried a little bit because I knew some of the boys she went with had a reputation as "fast movers." I queried Cindy one night after a date and asked what she thought of the boys she was going out with.

"Oh they're wonderful," she said. "They are so fun and humorous. They really know how to show a girl a good time. They'll be my island brothers forever."

I asked Cindy if any had made romantic moves on her.

"Oh no," she said. "They are all perfect gentlemen."

"Oh really?" I said. "And how did you keep these lover boys from pawing after you?"

"Oh that was easy. The moment I got in the car with each one of them at the beginning of the first date, I looked him squarely in the eye and said, 'There will be no kissing.' Of course they were so startled with this out-of-the-blue declaration, they didn't know exactly how to respond. But I smiled and kept my eyes on them, and pretty soon they laughed and said, 'That's cool.' And we had such a glorious time because that little passionate possibility was nipped in the bud in the very beginning."

When you talk now to Cindy, who has a husband and six children and one grandchild, she will tell you that she was never treated better, with more respect, or had more fun than she had in Hawaii.

“Go outside and play,” the hired girl said. “You know your mother needs to rest.” So Leta, Sina, Nilla, and Clyde followed the flagstone path out the back door and past the pretty tulips. The gate led to the field, and at one end of the field was a big root cellar. The parts of the cellar that were not filled with potatoes or other root crops were like a playhouse for the four children.

“Let’s get ready for dinner,” Leta said in a special voice that meant she was pretending to be Mother. “Sina, help me tie my apron.” She pretended to pull an apron out of a drawer and put her head through the part that went over the shoulders.

Sina pretended to make a bow in the back, hurrying to finish so she could play the part of big sister. “I will set the table,” she said, turning over a wooden crate and draping it with an old dish towel that they had used in their playhouse before.

“Nilla,” Leta ordered again, “you go back to the house and find us some food to eat.”

Nilla was happy to have an important part to play in this game. She was almost back to the house before she remembered that the hired girl had sent them away and might not let her go into the house again. She looked around carefully until she saw the girl talking to a boy who had ridden up on a horse.

Nilla went to the kitchen. The cupboard doors were open, but they smelled of cleaning soap and nothing was inside. Boxes and bottles of various sizes and shapes were on the table and chairs.

One bottle with a worn, red-and-white label caught Nilla’s eye. She did not know that the picture of the skull and crossbones on it meant “poison.” The label was loose, so she tore it off and threw it down on the floor. Then she proudly took the bottle back to her sisters and brother, who were waiting in the playhouse.

Leta opened the bottle and looked at the white crystals inside it. “Yes, this looks very good,” she said, closing it up again. “It will take a little while for dinner to be ready, so don’t sit up to the table yet.”

Leta pretended to be busy cooking over the stove, then sweeping the floor. She scolded the children from time to time when they were impatient waiting for their food. Finally she announced that it was time for dinner.

When the children took their places at the table, Leta poured a little pile of the crystals in front of each of them. Clyde licked his finger, ready to eat right away, but Leta stopped him. “No food until after the prayer. And I will say it.”

This time, she reminded everyone of their father as she prayed. “Our Father who art in heaven,” she began, “we thank Thee for this food, and for …” Her voice rose and fell as she prayed on and on, and her words were mumbled much of the time so that no one was quite sure what all she had said. The others did hear her say, “Bless this food to our use” and “Bless the missionaries in the field.” Just when Sina, Nilla, and Clyde thought that the prayer would end and the feast would start, Leta thought of the name of a ward member she could mention in the prayer and the prayer continued.

In the house, Mother, sick and weak, awoke with such a feeling of concern for her children that she found herself standing beside her bed even before she was fully awake. Making her way slowly out of the bedroom, she saw the hired girl asleep on the couch.

The kitchen was spotlessly clean, except for a faded red label that startled her as a breeze blew it across the floor. A picture of a skull and crossbones was on it, and the word strychnine. Mother hurried outside as fast as she was able. She saw no sign of her children in the yard, so she went straight to their playhouse in the cellar.

Leta had just said, “amen,” and each child was raising a freshly licked finger in the air over the “food” to pick up the powder and eat it, when Mother’s shadow appeared in the doorway.

Mother had found the children in time! In her heart, she said her own prayer of thanks for the lives of her little children. She did not doubt for a moment that the Spirit of the Lord had awakened her and led her to the children who were in danger.

That evening at suppertime, the children waited patiently through the rising and falling tones of their father’s long blessing on the food. It wasn’t hard to remember their own blessing on the play “food” they had almost eaten in the root cellar.

While they were eating, Nilla whispered to Leta, “Heavenly Father really does hear and understand each prayer, doesn’t He?”

“Yes, He really does,” Leta whispered back.

Some years later in Cusco, a city high in the Andes of Peru, Elder A. Theodore Tuttle and I held a sacrament meeting in a long, narrow room that opened onto the street. It was night, and while Elder Tuttle spoke, a little boy, perhaps six years old, appeared in the doorway. He wore only a ragged shirt that went about to his knees.
On our left was a small table with a plate of bread for the sacrament. This starving street orphan saw the bread and inched slowly along the wall toward it. He was almost to the table when a woman on the aisle saw him. With a stern toss of her head, she banished him out into the night. I groaned within myself.
Later the little boy returned. He slid along the wall, glancing from the bread to me. When he was near the point where the woman would see him again, I held out my arms, and he came running to me. I held him on my lap.
Then, as something symbolic, I set him on Elder Tuttle’s chair. After the closing prayer the hungry little boy darted out into the night.
When I returned home, I told President Spencer W. Kimball about my experience. He was deeply moved and told me, “You were holding a nation on your lap.” He said to me more than once, “That experience has far greater meaning than you have yet come to know.”
As I have visited Latin American countries nearly 100 times, I have looked for that little boy in the faces of the people. Now I do know what President Kimball meant.

Elizabeth “Buffy” Tateoka Fairbanks of Holladay, Utah, loves serving others, and she always wanted to work in the medical field. But by the time she graduated with a degree in biology, she realized medical school wasn’t for her.
Then she discovered a 15-month accelerated nursing program that seemed a perfect fit. Still, she would need help with tuition expenses. Buffy looked into scholarships and found that the military offers tuition assistance programs for those on active duty as well as for those who finish their military service.
“I decided to join the Navy because my husband, Tom, is already in the Navy. He received a scholarship to pay for his degree in mechanical engineering,” she says. After discussing the idea with him, and making it a matter of fasting and prayer, Buffy applied for and received a scholarship “to help me get through nursing school and become a registered nurse.”
Buffy was accepted into the Nurse Candidate Program. “I wasn’t required to do anything but go to school and pass my state licensing exam after graduation,” she explains. “But once I graduated, I was commissioned in the Navy Nurse Corps.”
Nursing school, Buffy discovered, emphasizes critical thinking skills and ways to apply those skills as a nurse. “It was exciting to come through the program knowing how to help save people’s lives,” she says. “I enjoyed learning how to care for patients and getting to know them as individuals.”
The thought of serving in the Navy appealed to Buffy’s sense of adventure as well as her desire to serve others. “In addition to getting help to pay for my schooling, I also knew the Navy would provide opportunities for experiences that I otherwise wouldn’t have.”
Serving in the military means time away from home and family. Fortunately, Buffy and her husband are stationed near each other and they can be together. Even during times of separation, the Internet helps them communicate with each other frequently.
They also know how important it is to rely on their testimonies of Jesus Christ to repel Satan’s temptations. She says, “We are all faced with adversity throughout our lives, and sincere prayer and staying in tune with the Spirit are important to keeping us on the right path, and also help us when we have difficult decisions to make.”
Buffy knows that faith and prayer are important in choosing educational and career paths—and in life in general. She knows that for her, choosing to join the Navy and become a nurse helps fulfill her desire to serve others.

Christine: As a man and woman get to know one another through continuous dating experiences, qualities and character emerge. As I watched Roger work on his truck one day, I was impressed that he knew some auto mechanics and I was especially awed when I saw how he handled frustration. Because of the auto design on this model a certain area he needed to work on was very difficult to access and therefore it was extremely exasperating. As he made repeated attempts, I could tell he was provoked. His face got red, and his fists clenched, but, he never lost control and he didn't swear. In fact, I think the strongest expletive I've ever heard him say is "rats."

Mr. and Mrs. Duck had five new ducklings. Their names were Dora, Dolly, Dinah, Daphne, and Harold.
When it was time for their first swimming lesson, Mrs. Duck took them to the pond. She showed them how to float. She showed them how to wiggle-waggle their feet.
“Now,” she said, “away you go!”
And splish-splash! Away went Dora and Dolly.
Splash-splish! Away went Dinah and Daphne.
Glub-glub-glub! went Harold. And he sank straight down to the bottom of the pond.
“No, no, no!” cried Mrs. Duck, as she fished Harold out. “That’s not right at all! You float like this. You wiggle-waggle your feet like this. And away you go!”
And away Harold went, glub-glub-glub! Straight to the bottom again.
It happened the next time he tried to swim, and the next, and the time after that. By the end of the day, poor Harold had seen more of the pond’s bottom than he’d seen of its top.
When Mrs. Duck told him the news, Mr. Duck roared, “Harold can’t swim? Nonsense! You must have been doing something wrong, my dear. Tomorrow I will teach Harold.”
And the next day he took Harold to the pond.
“You float like this,” said Mr. Duck. “You wiggle-waggle your feet like this. And away you go, Harold! Harold?”
“Glub-glub-glub!” said Harold.
By the end of that day, the fish were getting to know Harold very well.
“Hello again, Harold,” they said.
“Glub-glub-glub!” said Harold, on his way to the bottom.
Mr. and Mrs. Duck took Harold to the family doctor.
“A sinking feeling?” said Doctor Quack, as he stroked his chin. “Straight to the bottom, you say? Hmmm!” Then he said, “I can’t find anything wrong with him at all. He’ll learn to swim soon, you’ll see.”
But Harold didn’t learn to swim, not that day, nor the next, nor the one after that.
Harold didn’t seem to mind at all. He practiced floating when his mother asked him to. He practiced wiggle-waggling his feet when his father asked him to.
And sometimes, because he knew his parents were worried, he pretended to swim in the shallow water. But he always kept one foot on the bottom.
Then early one morning, Harold disappeared. Mrs. Duck couldn’t find him anywhere.
She set up a terrible fuss.
“Don’t anyone leave this duck pond!” she shouted. “Someone has stolen my Harold!”
“I saw a duckling in the middle of the pond,” said a frog. “Don’t ask me who he is. All you ducks look alike to me.”
Mr. and Mrs. Duck dived and dived under the water. They found a rubber tire, some rusty cans, and an old boot. But they didn’t find Harold.
“I shall never hear his little glub-glub-glub again!” sobbed Mrs. Duck.
“Glub-glub-glub?” asked a voice behind them.
And there was Harold.
“Harold’s floating!” gasped Mrs. Duck.
“Harold’s wiggle-waggling his feet!” cried Mr. Duck.
“Harold’s swimming!” shouted Dora, Dolly, Dinah, and Daphne.
And he was.
Mr. and Mrs. Duck watched proudly as Harold swam with his sisters.
“Sometimes things just take patience,” said Mrs. Duck.
“Sometimes things just take practice,” said Mr. Duck.
But Harold only smiled.
Little as he was, he had known all along that sometimes things just take time.

There was a very popular book series I started reading. At first I liked it, but then it started getting scary and yucky. I felt uncomfortable. I did not feel the Holy Ghost. As I started the second book, it was the same and getting worse.
I talked with my mom about Article of Faith 13. These books weren’t like the article of faith, and I want to live like it says. Finally I stopped reading the books. I felt a lot better right away. I want to feel like that all the time, and I know I can if I use Article of Faith 13 as my guide.
Brooke B., age 10, Utah, USA

Many years ago my twin brother and I left our home in Göteborg, Sweden, to serve the Lord as full-time missionaries in England. During our flight to London, numerous thoughts ran through my head. For one thing, my brother and I would have to separate in London, and for the first time in our lives we would not be together every day. But the thing that worried me most was that I didn’t know the English language well. At that time missionaries from Sweden did not receive language instruction or any other training; they were sent straight from home to the mission field. I thought of my twin brother, who was gifted in languages. My interests leaned more toward technical subjects, and for this reason I had not spent much time studying languages in school.
After I arrived in London and then finally in Birmingham, the headquarters of the England Central Mission, the mission president and his wife greeted me with huge smiles and all possible warmth. Everyone I met at the mission office was happy and enthusiastic and spoke with me about things such as study guides, tracting, companions, and so forth. But I could not understand much because their language was new and foreign.
Despite the kindness of the people around me, I felt overwhelmed. How could I ever testify of the gospel in this strange language? I spent much of that first night on my knees, asking Heavenly Father why He had sent me here and if there had possibly been a mistake.
The following day an assistant to the mission president showed me a scripture—Ether 12:27. I got out my Swedish Book of Mormon and read: “If men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them” (Ether 12:27).
If anyone had a weakness, I did. Questions arose in my mind: Do you believe what is written in this verse? If so, do you have the courage to exercise the faith required? And can you humble yourself before the Lord so that your weakness can become your strength?
As a struggling young missionary, I thought back on this experience and realized that because I had received a confirmation from the Lord that the Book of Mormon is true, then what I read in the book of Ether was also true. I knelt in humble prayer before my Heavenly Father and expressed my inner feelings about my mission call and my language weakness. I promised Him that I would get up early every morning to study and memorize the 70 pages of lessons and scriptures we were to use to teach the people. I told Him I had faith that He, in return, would help me learn the language so that I could testify of Him and of His Son.
Early every morning thereafter, I prayed to Heavenly Father and said, “Here I am; let us start.” In a relatively short time I was able to testify that the scripture in Ether is true. My ability to speak English—a weakness when I first started serving my mission—became a strength to me.
This experience has been a blessing to me all of my life. Many times I have thought new Church callings were beyond my abilities. Then the Spirit has testified to me and reminded me of the experience I had as a young missionary in England. With great gratitude these many years I have felt strength radiating from those words that are recorded in the book of Ether. Through the power of the Spirit, they can give each of us strength, guidance, and hope.

One approach is exemplified by a fellow we will call Eric. People tell Eric that he is very smart, and he prides himself on his ability to think through ideas and explain them to people.
Recently Eric has been studying about the different nations of the earth. One afternoon as he was watching a film in school about the eastern countries, he was deeply impressed with the number of people on the earth and how varied their lives are.
As he was thinking, he asked himself, does God really near everyone’s prayers? After pondering for awhile he could not conceive how one being could really listen to all those prayers at one time. “It is just impossible; he must have angels assigned to listen for him,” he reasoned. This answer was logical but somehow made him feel a little farther away from his Father in heaven.
Richard is a good example of another approach. Born in the Church, Richard was not active until he was well into his teens. At that time a series of challenging events provided him with the opposition necessary to turn him toward the gospel. After a few weeks of reading and prayer, Richard had developed a testimony of Christ and the truth of the Book of Mormon. People remembered Richard because of his testimony and commitment to it.
One evening Eric and Richard were talking about the Church. Eric said, “You know one thing that bugs me about the Church is that it demands so much blind obedience.”
“What do you mean?” asked Richard.
“Well, for example, the other day in class we were talking about prayer, and I mentioned how many people there are in the world and said that God can’t possibly hear all those prayers. He must have others do it for him. Old Brother Edwards just said I was wrong, and I asked how he knew. He just quoted a bunch of scriptures. Boy, what a cop-out—just blind faith.”
“That’s really interesting, but I disagree on the blind faith idea,” replied Richard. “I thought about that same question not long ago. The first thing I asked myself was, what has the Lord already told us about it? I read some passages in the Doctrine and Covenants (see D&C 88:62–63) and also found a great statement by President John Taylor:
“‘We are told in relation to these matters that the hairs of our heads are numbered; that even a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without our Heavenly Father’s notice; and predicated upon some of these principles are some things taught by Jesus, where He tells men to ask and they shall receive. What! The millions that live upon the earth? Yes, the millions of people, no matter how many there are. Can He hear and answer all? Can He attend to all these things? Yes.’ (Journal of Discourses, vol. 26, p. 31.)
“Since I already have a testimony of the scriptures and the living prophets, the next thing I wanted to know was what do I have to do in order to understand more about how God hears and answers prayers.
“I’ve been praying about it, and last fast Sunday afternoon I was reading Doctrine and Covenants 88 [D&C 88] about the light of Christ and how it is in all and through all things. Of course, I know our Father in heaven is a distinct personage, but this taught that his power, spirit, glory, and influence emanate throughout the universe and create a channel through which light and life are given to all that live. As I’ve been thinking about this, I think l’m starting to realize how our Father can be in personal contact with all his children. I’ve concluded that God hears all who pray, but for us to receive his answers, we must live the commandments and seek him. I don’t feel like that is blind faith.”
Richard’s conclusion meets a great test because it fits with what President Harold B. Lee said in a talk on revelation. He said that we are much like a radio receiver; if our tithing tube is broken, or our keep-morally-clean tube is not operating correctly, we will never receive the messages the Lord sends. Even worse, we could be on the wrong station, thinking we are receiving messages from the Lord when all the time they are coming from the wrong source.
There is an old Chinese proverb that says, in effect, it is not knowing all the answers that indicates a man’s wisdom, but in knowing how to ask the right questions.
What are the right questions and how does that relate to prayer? Prayer is communication between God and man. When we approach the Lord in prayer to seek knowledge and wisdom, our questions should be faithful questions.
Faithful questions seek to understand rather than judge. When Joseph Smith was searching, he read in James 1:5, “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.” Joseph also read (which we sometimes forget), “But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering.” The scripture goes on to say of one who wavers and doubts, “… Let not that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord.”
Richard knew how to ask questions; Eric did not. The difference? “But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering.” Eric asked a judgmental, challenging question not based on trust and faith in the things he had already received. “Let not that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord.”
Richard did not seek to judge but to understand. It is with faith and trust that we can learn to follow President Lee’s counsel to put periods after what the Lord has said, not question marks.
Faith in seeking brings knowledge, wisdom, and light.
I affirm that God does hear all our prayers; he loves us and seeks to communicate. We need to learn to ask the right questions and, in the things of God especially, seek to understand not to judge.

The children in Ryan’s new neighborhood were from all over the world: Australia, Canada, Egypt, England, India, Kuwait, Mexico, Saudi Arabia, Scotland, the United States, and Vietnam.
Ryan had been amazed to meet people from so many places, but he noticed that sometimes children in the park played only with other children who spoke the same language. Ryan couldn’t understand why everyone didn’t want to play together, no matter where they were from or what language they spoke. Sometimes children from one country would be mean to children from another country. That made Ryan sad.
Ryan wondered what he could do, but it was hard to think of anything. He couldn’t just tell everyone to be friends—because they spoke so many different languages, they wouldn’t understand.
One day Ryan’s family took a walk down the street. Some of the boys who had been mean were outside. One of them was holding a football. Ryan liked to play football too. Getting up his courage, Ryan walked over to the boys. He knew a few words of their language, and they knew a little of his. Ryan and the boys started smiling and laughing as they tried out the different languages. Then Ryan pointed to the football. “Do you want to play football with me?” he asked slowly, hoping they would understand. He smiled extra big.
The boys looked at him, then at each other. They talked for a minute, but Ryan couldn’t understand the words. Then they looked back at Ryan and nodded. Ryan grinned, and they ran to the nearby park. Ryan waved to his friends who spoke English, and a little shyly, they walked over. One boy set down the football, and the game began.
A while later Ryan took a quick break to run home for a drink of water.
“How’s it going out there?” Mom asked.
“Great!” Ryan said. “It’s like this, Mom. We’re all shoes!”
“Shoes?” Mom asked.
“Sure. We’re all different, but we all wear two shoes—and that’s all you need for football.”
“Good discovery,” Mom said. “You’re all children of Heavenly Father, and you’re more alike than you think.”
Ryan waved as he ran back out the door to play with his new friends.
After that day the children in the neighborhood went to the park every Thursday to play football together. It didn’t matter what languages they spoke or where they were from—they were all shoes, and that was enough.

As a young girl, my grandmother, Chasty Olsen Harris, had a similar experience. She was tending some children who were playing in a dry riverbed near their home in Castle Dale, Utah. Suddenly she heard a voice that called her by name and directed her to get the children out of the riverbed and up on the bank. It was a clear day, and there was no sign of rain. She saw no reason to heed the voice and continued to play. The voice spoke to her again, urgently. This time she heeded the warning. Quickly gathering the children, she made a run for the bank. Just as they reached it, an enormous wall of water, originating with a cloudburst in the mountains many miles away, swept down the canyon and roared across where the children had played. Except for this impelling revelation, she and the children would have been lost.

Among the early Saints who gathered to Zion was Hannah Last Cornaby, who settled in Spanish Fork, Utah, USA. In the difficult early days of the restored Church, Christmas was sometimes marked with a precious orange or a carved toy or perhaps only a rag doll—but not always. Hannah wrote of December 25, 1856:
“Christmas Eve came, and my darlings, with childish faith, hung up their stockings, wondering if [they] would [be filled]. With aching heart, which I concealed from them, I assured them they would not be forgotten; and they fell asleep with joyful anticipations for the morrow.
“Not having a particle of sweetening, I knew not what to do. They must not, however, be disappointed. I then thought of some squashes in the house, which I boiled, then strained off the liquid, that, when simmered a few hours, made a sweet syrup. With this, and a little spice, I made gingerbread dough which, when cut into every conceivable variety of design, and baked in a skillet, (I had no stove,) filled their stockings and pleased them as much as would the most fancy confectionaries.”1
Between the lines of this story is an account of a mother working through the night without even an oven to ease her efforts. Yet she was committed to bring joy to her children, to reinforce their faith, to affirm in their home, “Happy day! All is well!”2 Isn’t that the message of Christmas?

“Fam’lies can be together forever through Heav’nly Father’s plan” (“Families Can Be Together Forever,” Hymns, no. 300). I love this Primary song, which teaches that families can be sealed for eternity. I prayed that this could be true for my family, especially after my father passed away.
Recently the Lord answered my prayer. My mother, my two brothers, and I were able to travel to the Manila Philippines Temple to be sealed together and to my father. It was our first time in the temple together, and I can still remember the happiness I saw in my mother’s and brothers’ eyes. There was a great feeling of joy there.
I know the temple is the house of the Lord and that those in the temple have the proper authority to perform sacred ordinances. I’m so grateful that through these ordinances, my family can be with my father again. Since going to the temple, we try to be a stronger family and do all we can to keep our covenants so that we can be together forever.
Crisanto Coloma, Philippines